Flashes of Sanity #144: Sloppy Skin

Welcome to Flashes of Sanity! Your daily dose of flash fiction on 500 words or less.

Today’s entry: Sloppy Skin

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”That hat is one bad fashion choice,” Carl Messinger told Aresh.
Aresh laughed. Kara felt a laugh gurgle in her throat too. She stopped it. This was not the time.
They already look at me too much anyway.
She corrected the skin of her jaw. It still had her mouth open at all times showing her flesh under what was the real her. No one saw the real Kara anymore. They only saw wrinkled skin hanging on what once was human.
“You are right,” Dale Riderstorm said. “It is a terrible fashion choice.”
The man who had mocked the police for years smiled. He glanced at Kara. In contrast to everyone else he did not look away when she noticed him. He excused himself from the discussion and walked towards her.
He thinks I am a monster, Kara thought.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” Dale asked.
Kara didn’t answer him and Dale took that as she didn’t mind.
Here it comes, she thought.
“I am curious of what happened to you,” Dale said. “If you feel like telling me of course.”
The question hit Kara through the chest in a sharp spear. Her heart stopped. Then it broke when she realized someone could actually go past the horridness. Then she realized that he was the Reviewer, and the cold spear turned burning within her.
What was the catch?
“I am not comfortable telling you that,” she said.
Dale nodded. He turned and put his focus on Mr. Diamond and a teenage girl.
“People think they are so good at hiding secrets,” he said. “The truth is none of them are. Everything leaks out. The truth is there for those who are willing to find it. Not that long ago there was a rumor of a man walking in other men’s skin. The rumor began when a man named Bill went from Billionaire to church rat because he suddenly couldn’t handle the economics anymore. Then it spread as a house fell apart because of a faulty carpenter known for his attention to detail. I have studied you, Kara. Just as I keep tabs on every officer in our beloved country. Lately, you have lost touch with your own passion. To me this is the closest you have been to the real Kara for several months.”
Kara’s lips tasted salt as small droplets walked under her skin. The spear turned comforting within her chest.
“Really?”
“Yes, if you need someone to talk to, you know where I am. If you know others who could need the same favor show them to me.”
Dale arose. He walked to the teenage girl and Mr. Diamond. He talked to them like nothing had happened.
But everything happened.
Kara used the inside of her skin to dry the tears and corrected the skin of her jaw again.
Further into the sewers, she heard the same devilish laughter she drowned not that long ago.

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Flashes of Sanity #135: Job Interview

Welcome to Flashes of Sanity! Your daily dose of flash fiction on 500 words or less.

Today’s entry: Job Interview

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“Welcome to my home.”
The world around Bjoern blurred itself back into existence. He was still in the sewers. It was just decorated to look like a family home.
“Chop, chop, eyes on me, okay?”
Bjoern turned towards the man on what once was a kitchen chair. Arm rests and ornaments had been attached to make it into a throne.
“Who are you?” Bjoern’s thoughts grasped at the memories of the morning. He went to meet Gift-Box. He saw an undead Santa. Two elves chased him down the sewer. Then black. He looked at his shirt. The buttons were untouched. He was still recording.
“Me,” the man said. “I am Nick. Gift-Box. A family man. Or was until the bastard over there took them away.”
The man pointed at the wall behind him. A wall covered in heads, Bjoern now realized. 15 heads to be exact. They all moved.
“You are Gift-Box, and you have living heads on your wall.” He made sure to articulate the words. All the questions Bjoern had prepared for the meeting seemed irrelevant now.
This was so much better.
“Yes.” Nick turned to the heads. “They are my court of heads.”
“I will kill you!” One head said.
“You say so all the time Piotr, it is getting tedious. Can’t you just get over the fact that I killed you. I promise, I might try to get over that you slaughtered my family. Just for some freaking stones.”
“Why do you have them on a wall?”
“They are my advisors. Or most of them are. Piotr is for decoration.”
“Advisors for what?”
Nick tilted his head and gave Bjoern a weird look.
“For my next move, off course. Madeleine said we needed someone to document all I have accomplished, so, here you are!”
“The world will turn red!” One of the heads said. “The end has just begun. Magalago said so. What Magalago said is the law.”
“Sorry,” Nick turned to the head and smacked it. “That was Timothy Galan, he read the great journal of Magalago and claims he knows all that was and all that will be. The world translated that as over his head crazy. But I think there might be something to it.”
“The man in red has attacked. That initiates phase 1. Soon the red will come.
This time Nick punched Timothy’s head with his full force. “Do you want me to dip you in poop? No? Then, shut up.”
“Once again, sorry. Heads can be so unpredictable,” Nick continued as if nothing had happened.
“What do you want with me?” Bjoern asked with his eyes still on the fifteen heads.
“I want you to join my court of heads.”
Bjoerns heart froze. “What if I don’t want to?”
Nick tilted his head. “Do you think you have a choice?”
Nick snapped his fingers. Everything turned dark. Pain struck through Bjoern’s neck. He screamed, a lungless scream.
“Welcome to my court,” Nick said.

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Flashes of Sanity #130: Doomsday Interview

Welcome to Flashes of Sanity! Your daily dose of flash fiction on 500 words or less.

Today’s entry: Doomsday Interview

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The first time was scary. The other too. Now when Bjoern actually gave it a thought, it was always scary to put yourself in the line of fire. Even though the first bullet confirmed your suspicions.
But it brought in the scoops of a lifetime. Which gave connections in governments. Just because so few wanted to risk not being a saint.
He tapped the microphone in his shirt button. The camera was the button below it.
“It is go time.”
The door complained. A fresh breeze of a city at war pushed away the stale indoor air. He kicked the corpse crawling right outside his window.
“Not today, Glenn. Today I am after the bigger fish.”
The corpse fell over and tipped over the dock and into the sea.
“You son of a” Glenn said before the water took jis last words.
The bigger fish was the mysterious Gift box. A man quickly rising in the crime world after the war began. Named after his process of picking his opponents apart and putting them in neat boxes.
Apparently, he was considered quite a nice guy in the underworld.
Shadows wandered across the horizon. Bjoern directed his camera towards them and tapped it from above.
Hope those are your ships, Mr. President, he thought.
They were supposed to meet at a supermarket a mile into the city. Sunny Mart. Or the invite had said ‘where the sun shops’. And sunny Mart was the only shop in town fitting that criterion.
“Recording, September 21. Today I will interview Gift-box. Wish me luck.” He released the microphone and whistled while he walked the road to the city.
“Hey, shit face,” a man said in the distant. “When will you interview me?”
“I already got enough of failures on my tapes, Lars.”
“Fuck you, Bjoern.”
“Is that your official statement.” Bjoern continued to whistle.
The morning sun disappeared as he walked between the buildings. The supermarket was visible now. It was as empty as it always had been.
Broken windows and broken spirits, Bjorne thought.
The sun peaked in between the buildings again. Bjoern stopped his steps.
How come Sunny Mart was in the shadows today?
He looked back at the shadow casters. His hand reached for the camera. Tap.
He tapped again. And again. As the convoy passed above him. His eyes remained wide open, his mouth too.
“What the…”
He turned his fingers around the button to zoom.
“Is that Santa?”
The man in the red cape glared down at him. The face with too many holes to be considered a face grinned. He pointed his fingers in Bjoern’s direction. Two elves peaked over the sledge. They laughed and jumped down to the street.
Bjoern’s camera caught it all. Then he ran.
He stumbled and fell down a sewer. He hit his head. And all went dark.

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Flashes of Sanity #129: Resurrected Father

Welcome to Flashes of Sanity! Your daily dose of flash fiction on 500 words or less.

Today’s entry: Resurrected Father

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“Where is Mitch?” Little Leo locked over his shoulder as if the lost brother would miraculously appear behind him
“We don’t know Leo,” Felix said. He swallowed. With what’s showing on the news. That could only mean one thing.
The ten had become nine.
Two fists hammered against the door. Again.
“You lousy rascals, let me in!”
“Please, make him stop.” Dan said. His glasses fell of his left ear and hang across his face.
“Is this how you treat family? Lock them out? Force them to stand outside in the rain? Is that really the Sooly-way I have taught you?”
“Maybe we you should let him in?” Oliver asked.
“Are you thick?” Felix punched Oliver so hard he fell into Greg. In a reaction to the sudden hit Greg spat out all his cereal. Greg stretched for another spoon full of cereal and found comfort in the crunches between his teeth.
“He will kill us!” Felix continued. “Do you want to die?”
“At least then I will meet Mitch.”
Felix’s hand stopped mid air, hovering centimeters from Oliver’s shoulder.
“Yeah, I would like to meet him too.”
“You know what?” The father outside said. “I don’t want to play nice anymore! You will pay for not letting me in. You will pay for not visiting my grave!”
“Do you think he has been drinking?” Adam sad.
“Probably.” Felix sighed. “As immortal he probably is drinking all the time.”
A window shattered in the kitchen. A father’s laughter raged inside the house. His steps created vibrations in the wooden floor.
“Papa, is here for you now!”
“I want to hide,” Leo said. “Why don’t we hide?”
“Don’t you worry,” Felix said. He put his arm around his little brothers. He remembered how Mitch always stood between them and the punches. He swallowed. “You can hide behind me.”
Arthur Sooly stood in front of them. The red eyes popped out of the once dead body.
“You are mine.” He panted. “You are all mine.”
Felix stared straight into the fire. He prepared himself. Behind them the sobs of eight brothers strengthened him.
“Welcome home father,” he said. “I have been waiting for you.”

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Flashes of Sanity #127: Field Work

Welcome to Flashes of Sanity! Your daily dose of flash fiction on 500 words or less.

Today’s entry: Field Work

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Donny looked out from behind the wall.
“All clear.” He gestured towards Donna to come.
They entered the highway and searched every car for something and anything that could satisfy their starving group.
“Remind me again why we search abandoned cars for food, when we could go through the supermarkets.” Donna said, in her hand she held a forgotten banana peel that probably had been rotten already when the car was forced to halt.
“Because all the supermarkets already have been raided.” Donny reminded himself for the thousand time this day that she only was a teenager. Nothing more. Just a teenager capable of murder if the rumor was correct. “People raided them probably on hour one, or two if there was an electronic store on the same street.”
“So, we are hoping to survive on candy bars parents hid from their kids.”
“Pretty much.” Donny searched the glove compartment and found a bar and a soda bottle.
“That would be a lot of candy bars in that case.”
“You have no idea,” Donny said and thought of the mountains Brutal Joe and Cat-Scratch Bill usually ate. Them and Bella. The feeling stung in his chest and travelled up his throat in nauseating pulses.
She is dead…
“Wait!” Donna pulled herself out of a passenger seat. “Did you hear that?”
Donny froze and pushed away the nausea. Yes, there were people laughing. Right below them. There were also people screaming.
Donna and Donny sneaked towards the edge of the highway. They looked down at the streets below.
A man laughed again.
“Your money doesn’t matter now.”
Hanging in their feet three men and two women hang in their feet. Their clothes were torn, the women’s much more than the men’s. They were all bleeding.
In front of them a mob laughed while exchanging turns on dealing punches.
“Please,” one of the men sobbed.
“Shut it! I never asked you to speak.” A knife slashed through the man’s shirt and chest. He screamed.
“And you.” The slasher turned to one of the women. “I always wondered what the jugs of yours felt like in the night, maybe I should take one of them with me home and test it out?”
His knife slid in under what was left of her shirt. She didn’t scream, she didn’t cry. Even when the knife pierced her skin, she didn’t move a muscle.
“You should not see this.” Donny took Donna under his arm and forced her face away just as the blood trickled down the woman’s neck and her face.
Donny looked away too.
They probably did something similar to Bella, he thought.
“Should we leave?” Donna sked from his armpit.
“Yes. Yes, we really should get going before they notice us.”
The two sneaked of the high way. Another man screamed.
“Hi,” one attacker said. “Do you like nachos?”
All Donny could think about was his beautiful Bella in blood, and the knives tearing her apart.

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Flashes of Sanity #124: Presinct of Sinners

Welcome to Flashes of Sanity! Your daily dose of flash fiction on 500 words or less.

Today’s entry: Presinct of Sinners

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Cassandra counted them again. Just to be sure. She got stuck on Kara. Like last time. That flappy skin. The mouth hanging weirdly over her teeth. Somehow that was worse than the brain showing on Brynk’s skull.
They were all here, Cassandra concluded. They were all alive. With the word on the street, she felt quite divided from that fact.
They were all sinners.
Not a single saint on her troop. Not a single killing wound.
“What do we do now?” Aresh asked. “We can’t hide forever.”
“I don’t know.” Cassandra sighed. She looked up at the curved roof. The roof reminded her that they had taken to the sewer to find somewhere safe. It was also a reminder of all the feet stomping over their heads. “I just don’t know.”
“Has anyone seen Isa?” Kara’s mouth was still but her teeth moved behind the lips.
The troop looked at her, then they all looked away. Cassandra forced herself to keep eye contact just a little longer than the rest.
“No, we have no news about Isa.”
“Well, I am damned sure he wasn’t a saint.” Kara continued. “He has to be somewhere.”
“As soon as this all has calmed down, we will search for him.”
Kara seemed to accept Cassandra’s reason. But then again, how could Cassandra be really sure? The skin mask hid all her expressions.
“Why don’t you tell us what happened to your face?” Sandell muttered.
Kara’s face quickly turned to wards him and Sandell threw himself back at the sight.
“Why don’t you tell me what you did while I was gone?” Kara spat back. “Did you have fun while my killer walked in my skin. Did you notice that he wasn’t me?”
Cassandra froze. She was dead? She thought. She saw her own question reflect on the other’s faces.
“I was captured, skinned and killed just so some maniac could get a fix for his perverted desire of dressing like others.” Inside Kara’s mouth tears ran down her mouth. “And you never noticed. No one noticed that he wasn’t me. I thought you knew me.”
Kara hid her sloppy face behind her wrinkled hands. “I was so wrong.”
The air disappeared as the realization sank in.
“I am sorry.” Sandell was the first to break out of the trauma. “That sounds horrible.”
He put his hand on Kara’s shoulder. Cassandra regained control of her own thoughts.
“When did he kill you?”
“When I went to check out the abandoned storage building back in March. The one we got noise complaints from. It was him who put in the complaint. He waited for me.”
“That was…” Cassandra met Sandell’s hollow gaze.
“I am sorry,” Sandell said again. “Sh*t. This is awful.”
Inside Cassandra’s thoughts one voice surfaced. He probably planned to kill us all. He probably had been close so many times.

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Flashes of Sanity #118: Dire Incidents

Welcome to Flashes of Sanity! Your daily dose of flash fiction on 500 words or less.

Today’s entry: Dire Incidents

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Alred stumbled graciously into a crash landing.
The hit was quite the surprise for the red monster.
Very convenient when you are trying to save the world from destruction. The monster arouse from the rubble. It screeched as it threw itself at Alred. Alred remembered all the teachings kung fu movies had taught him. One step back, one arm raised.
Belch.
Not really according to plan. But when you ate a burrito last night, no matter the size, what can one expect?
The belch brought with it a flood of fire, and all of it poured over Alred with the morning breath hanging heavy. Alred breathed it in. Soon, bathroom break for thirty minutes.
Better get this over quick, he thought.
The red cloud fizzed at the first touch with Alred’s morning gases.
The monster threw itself back.
Alred saw the opportunity. One foot back, one arm raised. A cocky look.
Do you dare to attack me, it said.
Alred stumbled and his tail struck the monster. The monster flew across the city. Alred stumbled after it, and he tripped.
So, he flew after the monster. With another belch flavoring his mouth.
Then the monster threw itself at Alred. That was rude. Everyone knew a fight had to involve moments of staring, that was the rule. Alred aimed his teeth at the monster’s ear just as he did against Mo in kindergarten. Sadly, red clouds doesn’t have ears, they are just body, neck and face. And Alred missed the face.
The monster’s screech fractured buildings as Alred’s teeth tore into the neck. The monster threw punch after punch against Alred’s thick scales. They hit his ribs and his face. They broke through. They pierced in between the ribs in his chest. Just like the day with Mo, Alred never let go. Alred never gave up. The monster reached his heart. Alred’s vision blurred as red fingers wrapped around it. The fingers squeezed.
They ripped the heart out.
Alred tore the ear away that day Mo called his mother the bad S-word. He tore the neck of the monster today too.
The monster burst into thousand fragments. They all scattered in the wind. Some fragments laughed, some fragments cried. One fragment went home. Alred fell. His last blood poured out from the hole in his chest. He closed his eyes.
At least I saved the world, he thought.
He never opened his eyes again.

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Flashes of Sanity #117: Queen in the Rubble

Welcome to Flashes of Sanity! Your daily dose of flash fiction on 500 words or less.

Today’s entry: Queen in the Rubble

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The red monster flew across the sky. The dragon came flying after it engulfed in its own flames.
“Mom.” Dina tugged at Susanne’s arm. “I want to go home.”
“I know honey, mom just have to think so we don’t kill ourselves first.”
Susanne crossed a street full of demolished buildings and torn, living bodies.
“Do you really think you can die?” Marge said behind them. “I am pretty sure you should reevaluate yourself in that case.”
Susanne gave Marge a toxic look.
“Maybe I can’t, but I am pretty sure Dina can.”
That shut Marge up, for now. Susanne already regretted the choice of bringing her along. But certain people could make all the difference in a possible future.
Susanne knew Marge Umington was one of them.
The red monster threw itself at the flaming dragon. The dragon went for the throat.
“Mom, I am scared.”
“Me too honey. We just have to wait for Uncle Mart to pick us up.”
A screech left the monster’s mouth. The screech turned fiercer for every second it lasted.
“Damn you Xander!” Marge shouted
“Xander?” Susanne glanced at Marge. “Xander Bylix.”
“Yes! How do you know him.” Marge went silent. Her eyes wandered to Dina. “Oh.”
Susanne grabbed Marge’s once fancy dress and pulled her close. “If you tell a soul, I will make sure you suffer.”
The smile playing on Marge’s lips was enough to make her consider it anyway.
“You don’t have to worry Mrs. Queen. Your secret is safe with me.”
Susanne let go.
One more enemy knowing too much, she thought. I’ll need to keep her close.
A car roared. It ran through all the living corpses and stopped by Susanne’s feet.
“Finally.” Susanne threw the passenger door open.
“Get in!” Mart Adamson screamed from the driver’s seat. “We need to get away from here before they blow everything up.”
The car screeched through more corpses, and left the city.
“Are we going home?” Dina asked.
“No,” Mart said. “We are going somewhere better. We are meeting Santa!”

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Flashes of Sanity #115: Incidental Air Support

Welcome to Flashes of Sanity! Your daily dose of flash fiction on 500 words or less.

Today’s entry: Incidental Air Support

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Alred Klaudio had wings. That was weird. Weirder yet, the scales grew out yesterday. Or was it the day after that. Or the day after that. Remembering stuff was hard when you passed out every now and then.
Alred clapped his belly. Maybe burritos wasn’t the key to a healthy life. Alred thought about it and shook his head.
Overnight matured burritos was the essential breakfast. They were just not as easy to get from a cave on a mountain.
Caves were boring too. All the stone and all the skeletons. It was just not for him. Luckily, Alred brought the TV before he flew away. Sadly, there is no power in a cave.
But you can always play pretend.
Alred stumbled his way out of the cave to retrieve his daily burrito from the snow. They were getting smaller. That annoyed Alred. That this was the last burrito annoyed him even more.
The pink peppers growing in the snow was also weird.
Alred swallowed the coin sized burrito and decided to fly for new ones.
There were not many who could stumble mid-air, but Alred was one of them. He couldn’t believe that wings found it so difficult to stay apart.
The cities got smaller too. That confused Alred. The people shrunk every time he visited them too.
“Do you have burritos,” Alred asked. “Big ones.”
Everyone screamed at him. That Alred found sad. Back when he lived in the city, everyone was nice.
Alred stretched his head in through the supermarket entrance and scanned the aisles for burritos, but they were nowhere to be found.
But he found a TV.
He asked them to raise the volume so he could hear the news over all the screaming, but everyone was too busy screaming.
There was a war in the big cities, he understood. And monsters.
Maybe I could help, Alred thought. I have wings. I have fire.
The TV began burning.
Yes. Alred wanted to help.
Alred borrowed candy from a shelf, and exited the store.
He stumbled over the sea. He met some airplanes.
They were not nice. Just missiles and bullets.
They fell into the sea when Alred stumbled. Alred said he was sorry. Hopefully, they heard him.
Alred stumbled all the way to the mainland. He saw the monster. He shot some fire.
He was ready to save the day.

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Flashes of Sanity #109: Shedding Graves

Welcome to Flashes of Sanity! Your daily dose of flash fiction on 500 words or less.

Today’s entry: Shedding Graves

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The skin hanged sloppily around his waist. What once was Kara fell and hit her head against the back of his feet. Her hair stuck under his sole. Got up the stairs and slipped. He hit the cement floor with the back of his head. The colorful walls dimmed and came back.
“Come here, you coward!” Kara screamed from below the stairs. “I will gut you like a Russian doll.”
His phone rang. The ringtone for Cassandra Crisis.
Fuck, he thought and swallowed his heartbeat. A quick adjustment to his voice before he pushed the phone symbol.
“How can I help you Cassandra?” He glanced over his shoulder and saw Kara’s dried flesh on a hand stretching along the rail.
“You dare imitating me,” Kara snarled.
“Kara we need you here ASAP! They have taken over the President’s quarters! They have taken the whole parliament hostage. Shit, they live stream the torture.”
“I will be there Cass’,” he said, his voice cracked as he got up on his feet and ran. “Give me a moment to collect my stuff!”
A flash of light and a bolt of pain exploding on his head threw him to the floor once more. The light faded into the periphery and he saw the friend with a baseball bat hovering over his face.
“Kara, are you okay?” Cassandra said from the phone. “I heard something.”
The cadaver of Kara picked up the phone. She calmed her breath.
“It is okay Cass’, I just tripped.” Kara stared at him with her black eyes. “I will be with you as soon as I have collected my stuff.”
She hang up.
“Hit him again,” She said.
The baseball bat fell down on his face once more. His skull crunched.
“Bill,” Kara continued. “Help me find a knife. I want to see how many pieces we can cut out of him before he stops crying.”
The baseball bat came down one more. This time on his chest.

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